


Brave (Aka The Reichenbach Return 1.5)

by cajungirlkye



Series: The Reichenbach Return [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Reunion, Romance, The feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cajungirlkye/pseuds/cajungirlkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a companion fic to The Reichenbach Return. Basically, it's the same events, but from Sherlock's PoV. It is not necessary to read The Reichenbach Return but this fic will make a bit more sense if you do.</p>
<p>Set 6 months after "The Reichenbach Fall", so spoilers for such. Also some mention of "A Study in Pink" and "The Blind Banker". My version of John & Sherlock's reunion. R&R are welcome! *NOT Brit-picked, so any Americanisms are my own* Due to mentions of past drug use will be rated T. Johnlock angst and eventual fluff. Lots of FINALLY spoken feelings!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here it is! 
> 
> I hope to get this all posted within the next few days.
> 
> As usual, I'm just playing in the BBC's sandbox. Sadly Sherlock is not mine. (Because if he was... ohh boy. He & John would never get any work done) ;)
> 
> Title comes from the song of the same name by Sara Bareilles.

Sherlock Holmes woke with a start. It took him a moment to come to the realization where he was. _Home._ Well, not home exactly. He was in London, but he was in a guest room at Mycroft’s house rather than at 221B Baker Street.  He looked at the clock. 4:03 PM. He had been asleep for 15 hours. 

He had just finished dismantling the last of Moriarty’s crime web. He had caught and turned over every last one to Mycroft to prosecute, except the final criminal, Moriarty’s second-in-command, Sebastian Moran.  This one was John’s would-be killer and therefore Sherlock had declared a personal vendetta against the sniper.  He had been hiding in London the entire time. Sherlock had stayed at Mycroft’s for the past month while he waited for Moran to slip up and give Sherlock the opportunity to end him.

 Sherlock had texted Mycroft with the location of Moran, and when Mycroft had arrived Moran was dead on the floor, a pool of blood surrounding a single gunshot wound to the temple.  Sherlock stood calmly nearby with the gun still in his hand. Mycroft had gently laid a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, taken the gun with a rag, and cleaned Sherlock’s prints off of the gun before placing it in Moran’s hand and firing another round as to ensure powder burns as evidence for a convincing suicide before the NSY came.

Sherlock stretched and slid out of the bed. He dressed then went to go speak to Mycroft in his home office. Mycroft had just hung up the phone when Sherlock stepped into his office.

 “Ahh, good afternoon, Sherlock. You’ll be pleased to know that Moran’s death has already been ruled a suicide. I spoke with Detective Inspector Lestrade and apparently it was an open-and-shut case.”

“Good to hear,” Sherlock replied.

“I have already started the process to get all records of your death erased from the system,” Mycroft continued. “If you’re ready, a car is available to take you back to Baker Street.”

_John_ , Sherlock thought. His heart clenched. “How is he?”

“He’s grieving. I tried to visit him the day you arrived back in London and he slammed the door in my face.”

Sherlock smiled and Mycroft narrowed his eyes. “He visits your grave almost daily. In fact…” Mycroft paused to look looked at his watch.” He should be there in about 20 minutes, if you’d like to observe him before going back to Baker Street.”

He looked up to see that Sherlock had already left the room to go pack the few belongings he had with him. He smiled warmly. _Good luck, Sherlock._

************************************************

As the sleek black car headed toward the cemetery, Sherlock looked at his mobile at the last text he had typed to John before his ‘suicide’. He had ultimately saved it to the Drafts folder.

_Recipient: John – Mobile_

_I love you, John. I just wanted you to know that. – SH_

He sighed and pocketed his mobile. He was here. He stepped out of the car and – _There._ There stood John, in front of his grave. He walked closer.

He just wanted to be near John, to hear his voice again. As he crept closer he could hear John talking.

“– I never would have thought that I could miss another person so much, especially one as annoying as you." John gave a choked –sounding chuckled then sighed. "I wish I could tell you how I truly felt about you, how much you really meant to me."

“You can.” Sherlock realized he had spoken aloud when John whirled around, went white as a sheet, then fainted dead away at Sherlock’s feet.

Sherlock swore. This was _NOT_ how he wanted his reunion with John to go. He wanted to surprise John at the flat, (probably) get yelled at, and then move on as if nothing had happened.

He had the driver help him load John into the car and bring them both to Baker Street.  Luckily Mrs. Hudson was out. Sherlock still had his key to the flat, and managed to get John into 221B and onto the couch. He fetched the orange shock blanket that he & John had procured during one of their many close calls and wet a cloth to use as a cold compress.  He smoothed John’s hair out of his eyes and thought about what he had overheard in the cemetery while he waited for John to come to.

 Could he dare allow himself to hope?


	2. Chapter 2

_Could he allow himself to hope?_

Sherlock thought about what John possibly could have meant by what he said. He knew that John considered Sherlock to be his best friend.  Could John ‘ _not gay!’_ Watson possibly have seen him as more? This definitely required further study. He leaned over  the couch and brought his face level with John’s. His gaze traveled down to John’s lips. John had a habit of licking his lips when he was nervous, agitated, and (Sherlock had once thought but quickly dismissed) turned on. He had thought about kissing those lips, possessing that mouth… He shook his head. That idea would be _very_ Not Good while John was unconscious.  

Sherlock’s eyes flicked back to John’s as he heard him groan and stir. “Mrs. Hudson, I had the strangest…” John trailed off and Sherlock tried to smile. “Dream.” Sherlock straightened up quickly when John bolted upright. “Sherlock,” he breathed.

“Hullo, John,” Sherlock said calmly, while his brain was working in overdrive.

John sputtered, "but you're...you... you're dead." His voice (and Sherlock’s heart) broke. "I watched you fall off a rooftop."

"Well," Sherlock said reasonably, trying to keep John as calm as possible, "as you clearly can see, I'm here, alive and quite well. Amazing, the power of perception… The experiments I could do…"

He realized that was the absolute wrong thing to say and therefore expected the resulting sock to the jaw.

"You GIT!" John yelled. "You SODDING ARSE! Six months, Sherlock. Six BLOODY months you let me think that you were dead! Do you know what you put me through!? And Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, and Molly, and everyone else who gives a damn about you!"

"John, I -Hmmph," Sherlock tried to explain, but was suddenly wrapped in a tight embrace.  It had been a long time since he had gotten a proper hug and the proximity of John caused his brain to misfire temporarily and for him to stiffen reflexively. _Oh my God, John is hugging me,_ Sherlock thought. He relaxed, put his arms around John and just enjoyed the contact. He inhaled John’s slightly spicy scent. Too soon, John let him go.

"God, I've missed you," John said. Sherlock gratefully took the cold compress John handed him for his jaw, which was already starting to swell slightly, and knelt patiently while John (ever the doctor) checked him over for any new cuts, scrapes, bumps, and bruises. Sherlock had earned a few new cuts and scrapes over the past six months, but they were mostly in unnoticeable spots.  Once John seemed satisfied that Sherlock was in one piece and in a healthy condition (or at least, healthy for Sherlock) he sat back and asked, "Where have you been?"

Sherlock got up and sat next to John on the sofa. His knees were starting to feel uncomfortable and there was no reason for him to continue to be on the floor. "I'm fine, John. Really," he insisted. "I've been staying at Mycroft's."

"MYCROFT'S!?" John spluttered. "You mean to tell me that he KNEW you were alive this whole time and didn't breathe a word? I'll kill him, I'll swear I'll kill him, I'll – "

"I asked him not to," Sherlock quickly interrupted, leaning away a bit in case John decided to swing at him again. "I needed you to TRULY believe that I was dead." _As much as it hurt both of us,_ he thought but did not voice.

"But why? Moriarty -"

"Is dead, yes, but still had people targeting you. I had to make sure you were safe." Sherlock sighed. "You, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson all had targets on you. I had to stay 'dead' long enough for the threats to have been eliminated."

Sherlock noticed the look John gave him when he said the word ‘eliminated’. He pretended not to notice and just kept talking. "I did keep an eye on you, John - I monitored you at the flat, followed you around town, to the cemetery. I stayed within earshot and where I could see you, but I had to make sure you couldn't see me." He paused. How much should he reveal? "As much as it... pained me to see you suffering, it really was for your own safety." He didn’t want to say what he really was thinking, which was ‘ _It damn near killed me to see you hurting and you have no idea how many times I almost aborted the entire mission just so I could come home to you and tell you how I feel about you_ ’.

His mind went back to John’s words in the cemetery. He wanted to know – no, he _needed_ to know – exactly what John meant.  He placed his hand on John's shoulder, more to steady himself than John. "At the cemetery, you said that you wanted to tell me how you truly felt about me. That you wanted to tell me exactly what I mean to you. What are you telling me, John?"

"The cemetery… About that, Sherlock…" John trailed off and Sherlock’s stopped breathing until John continued. "When I first came back from Afghanistan, I was miserable. I missed the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush that being there gave me. I was depressed. I even was on anti-depressants. But then I met you…" He chuckled. "That first case, and I was hooked. After meeting Mycroft for the first time and before coming back to half of the London police force searching for drugs in our flat, I stopped back at my old place, retrieved my gun, and threw out my anti-depressants. You were better than any medicine I ever could have taken.

And then that day, it was all over. I thought you had died without me ever telling you how much I care about you. You're my best friend in the whole world, and I was completely miserable without you. I don't want to ever lose you again, Sherlock."

Sherlock thought back to the fake drugs bust. They had never talked about that. Sherlock knew that John had always wondered what Lestrade was on about that night. John needed to know. "Cocaine,” he said.

John suddenly got what Sherlock had come to call John’s ‘what are you talking about you mad bastard’ look. "What are you getting on about?"

Sherlock shrugged. "My drug of choice. The 'fake' drugs bust that Lestrade conducted… if he had looked hard enough he would have found it. Of course what's hidden in plain sight is always the hardest to locate. But that's beside the point. After we met, I found that I didn't need it anymore. Once we solved our first case together I went home and I destroyed it all. I found with you around I didn't need any artificial stimulants." _You’re the only drug I need._

He noticed John looking around trying to figure out where he would have hidden his drugs in plain sight. "Flour container," Sherlock said. "Lestrade never would have thought I'd hide it in there and the rest of the squad is too stupid to have noticed."  

Suddenly it clicked. _You were better than any medicine I ever could have taken…  I thought you had died without me ever telling you how much I care about you..._  John loved him, that much Sherlock was sure of, but… _"_ When, John?" Sherlock asked softly. _Has it been all this time, or is this a recent development?_

"When what?" Obviously John was out of practice following Sherlock’s rapid-fire train of thought.

Sherlock removed his hand from John's shoulder and took John's hand in his own. "When did you fall in love with me?"


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock removed his hand from John's shoulder and took John's hand in his own. "When did you fall in love with me?"

 He felt John flush. "When did you fall in love with me, John?" Sherlock repeated patiently.

"But I don't – I'm not – I mean…" John stammered then was silent for a few moments. Sherlock waited while John collected his thoughts. _Should I say something in encouragement?_ He had opened his mouth to say something when John sighed.

"Sarah and I actually broke up the night we were kidnapped by the Black Lotus. It was a mutual breakup and we agreed to remain friends since we were also colleagues. The night I was angry at you and stayed over at her place, we stayed up talking, mostly about you. She asked me how I put up with you, and I realized that it was because as annoying as you can be, I'm crazy about you. I've never felt the same way about anyone else the way I feel about you. You're the most important person in my life. When you jumped from the rooftop at St Bart's, I felt like a piece of me had died."

When John looked up at Sherlock their eyes connected. Sherlock was shocked by the pure love and trust in John’s eyes. "I love you, Sherlock. I love you so much and I just wanted you to know that."

John then hurried to add, "But I know you consider yourself married to your work - "

"John - " Sherlock tried to interrupt. _I love you too, you great idiot,_ he thought.

"And I know you're not looking for a relationship - "

"John, I - " _–Would gladly enter into a relationship with you._

"And you probably don't even FEEL that way - "

 _Oh sod it_. He leaned over and found out just how soft and kissable John’s lips really were. Their lips moved together naturally, John gripping Sherlock's shirt in order to pull him closer while Sherlock reached up to caress John's face. He moaned when John reached up to run his hands through Sherlock's hair.

He really would have loved to sit there snogging all day, but while he had John quiet he really needed to tell him his feelings. _So much for ‘sociopath’,_ Sherlock thought. He broke the kiss and backed away a few inches, lips still tingling with the taste of John on them.

"Well then," John panted.

Sherlock shook his finger at him and straightened. "Ah-ah. My turn."


	4. Chapter 4

"Ah-ah," Sherlock interrupted. "My turn."

 He adjusted on the sofa so he was facing John.  He wanted to catalogue John’s every reaction for filing in the ‘John’ wing of his Mind Palace.

The John wing started out as a shelf, but quickly grew into a room and then an entire wing. When Sherlock was feeling extra anxious and needed to retreat to his Mind Palace it was his favourite area for calming.

"I needed a new flatmate because I had been staying with Mycroft while I was in recovery for my cocaine habit. Part of my agreement for not having to continue to stay with Mycroft was to get a flatmate; I supposed it was because Mycroft wanted someone to keep an eye on me for him, which is why he propositioned you to spy on me. I knew Mrs. Hudson had a flat available, but I wasn't going to let Mycroft pay for it. The day I met you, I knew that you would agree to the flat share. You were intrigued by me, and I must admit, I did find your story interesting and wanted to know more about you." _I wanted to know everything about you, even then_ , he thought.

"When Lestrade contacted me about the fourth 'suicide' I invited you along as a sort of experiment, to see if you would forget about your psychosomatic limp. It was also a test of your intelligence and your patience. You know I can't stand stupidity. I also needed to make sure you could put up with me. I know I can be difficult to live with."

John chuckled. "You've got that right."

Sherlock shot him a dirty look and continued.

"Before I moved into 221B I never had anyone I considered a friend, but then I met you. I found you didn't annoy me as much as most people.

“I actually had things in common with you," Sherlock continued. "I felt like I could talk to you and you wouldn't judge me. You put up with my idiosyncrasies, like never sleeping or eating and playing the violin at 3 o'clock in the morning. Once I allowed myself to feel, it spiraled out of control. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and Molly all eventually got upgraded from means to an end to people I genuinely liked. It took me a while to accept that fact... I had friends. None as close as you, though. You're my best friend, John." He paused. He was still having the inner war with ‘ _I’m a sociopath, I don’t show my feelings_ ’. "That night at Angelo's when I told you that I considered myself married to my work and that I wasn't interested in a relationship, I meant it. But then..." Sherlock trailed off.  For so long he had been told that sentiment was a chemical defect found in the losing side.  But now that he knew John reciprocated his feelings, he really didn’t care.

"The night of the circus, I started to get a funny feeling in my chest right after you left to pick up Sarah. I analyzed it and realized that it was jealousy. An inconsequential feeling, one I quickly passed off as being because we were in the middle of a case and you were running off with some date. I later realized that it was because all these women could have the relationship with you that I had wanted."

"But Irene Adler – "John started to interrupt, completely missing the point of Sherlock's last statement.

"– Was an interesting case. She was the only other person to intrigue me even remotely like you do. But that's all it was – intrigue. You know how much I appreciate cleverness.” _I was never interested in her in that way. Do you honestly think she could even hold a candle to you?_ Sherlock had never really classified his sexuality. Oh, he had heard the whispers between his parents when he was younger, but aside from a few boyhood crushes on some of his schoolmates and strung-out encounters with a couple of blokes during his cocaine binges John was the only person that Sherlock ever really was interested in and definitely was the only person Sherlock had ever put above the work and could see himself in a relationship with.

“That night at the pool, I was shocked and confused when you stepped out after I called Moriarty out, making me think  _you_  were  _him_. I felt pure, unadulterated  _terror_  when I saw that you had a bomb strapped to your chest. Then when you were willing to blow yourself and Moriarty up in order to save my life, seeing that dedication, I... My feelings towards you changed. I felt... I know you always felt that love was a mystery to me, but that night when you offered to die for me, I felt an emotion that I thought I had deleted - love."

"What are you saying, Sherlock?" John asked. Sherlock noted the hitch in his breath.

"I... I think I'm in love with you." _Finally, I said it._

_"You think?"_ _John looked like he was being strangled._

"Well, I'm displaying all of the appropriate signs... elevated heart rate, dilated pupils, quickness of breath... and the overwhelming urge to snog you senseless." Sherlock smiled. He really did enjoy messing with John every once in a while.

 _His eyes fluttered closed when John reached up and ran_ his thumb over Sherlock's lips. He could definitely get used to the touch. He sighed. "I suppose I actually fell in love with you after our first case. After you shot the cabbie in order to keep me from taking the poisoned pill, I found myself actually  _caring_  about you. I had never cared for someone like that before.

I'd be lost without my blogger." _Really and truly lost. I’d actually probably be dead._ "You have no idea how much I love you, John."

John grinned. "I love the way you say my name..."

Well this was an interesting discovery. "John," he said softly and John smiled. "John. Jawn.  _Jaaaawwwwnnnn_. Jaw-"

This time John silenced Sherlock with a kiss. _Mmmmm….. Yes, definitely can get used to this._

Sherlock then noticed a slightly different smell on John but it wasn’t a foreign scent… it smelled like… him. “You switched your body wash.”

"Err, yeah," John admitted. "I switched to your brand, trying to remember the way you smelled. The flat started to lose your scent so I tried to get it as close as possible so I could remember you."

Sherlock finally took notice of the state of the flat. "By the way, where are my belongings?" he asked. "The flat looks positively bare without them."

"I had them put in storage," John answered. "I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them, yet it was too painful a reminder to have them lying about the flat. Your room hasn't been touched, though. Everything is as you left it that day. I couldn't bring myself to go in your room."

 _John STILL didn’t get it_. "I faked my death because I had to make sure that you were safe from Moriarty's henchmen, John, I need you to understand that. I never wanted to hurt you. I had to disappear for an appropriate amount of time to make absolute sure that you weren't in any danger. I hated to see you suffering thinking I was dead." He bit his lip.

"I – I can move back in at once, if you'll have me," Sherlock said, rather shyly.

"Of course," John said incredulously. "Who else would want me as a flatmate?"

Sherlock grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue will probably be up tomorrow.


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is rushed and doesn't have a whole lot of Sherlock's thought processes, but RL is keeping me insane and I wanted to get this up this weekend.

After their heart-to-heart, they both went downstairs to tell Mrs. Hudson the good news (although Sherlock was content just to keep kissing John).  Mrs. Hudson's reaction upon seeing Sherlock was to drop the teacup she was holding, gasp in surprise, and then launch herself at Sherlock, blubbering tearfully, "You gave me such a FRIGHT young man!" Of course, that made Sherlock feel guilty and he spent the next two weeks making it up to her.

 After making sure that Mrs. Hudson wasn't going to have a coronary, they went back to their flat and John suggested going to the NSY to see Lestrade. "No need," Sherlock replied without thinking. He pulled out his mobile and quickly sent Lestrade a text.  A few minutes later Sherlock's mobile beeped with a new message. He turned his phone so he & John could both read the message together.   _Good,_  the message read.  _Now I can stop lying to John about you really being alive - GH._

The ensuing row over " _HOW many people knew you were still alive, Sherlock!?_ " that Sherlock had known was coming lasted an hour and a half.

 Mycroft, Molly, and Lestrade all had a hand in Sherlock faking his death.  Molly helped provide a fake body for the funeral, Mycroft helped Sherlock stay off of the radar and destroyed all of the fake death documentation upon Sherlock's return, and Lestrade had the people over at the NSY quickly rule Sherlock's death a 'suicide' so that the investigation would quickly be closed and the appropriate paperwork drawn up.  John was NOT amused.  It took a lot of explaining ("But it was for your OWN GOOD John! I needed you to have genuine emotion and it was to protect you from Moriarty’s henchmen!" Sherlock kept saying exasperatedly), then apologizing and coddling. John only relented after Sherlock started raining kisses down his jaw and neck, murmuring John's name in the way that John apparently liked. _I could get used to this,_ Sherlock had thought at the time. _Good way to make John stop being angry with me. Need more data._

 Now, three weeks later, it was almost like Sherlock had never been gone. Neither one had again mentioned the past 6 months. The only differences between before The Fall and now were that John and Sherlock were a LOT closer. Sherlock would pretend to be annoyed when he was working on an experiment and John would come up and place soft kisses behind Sherlock's ear or on his temple. "You're  _DISTRACTING_  me, John," he would scold half-heartedly while spinning around to wrap his arms around his boyfriend and turn that innocent display of affection into a full-on makeout session. Once Sherlock started kissing John he really didn’t want to stop. Ever.

 One evening after a particularly difficult case (which Sherlock only solved because of John’s brilliance, which of course he would never admit) Sherlock and John were snuggling together on the couch watching telly. (Well, John was absentmindedly stroking Sherlock's hair while watching telly while Sherlock pretended to watch telly but was really memorizing the feel of every stroke of John's fingers in his hair and filing it in the John wing of his Mind Palace.)  John stopped after a while and cleared his throat.  "Sherlock?"

 "Hmm?" Sherlock mumbled, snuggling closer. He was incredibly comfortable and was even contemplating dragging John off to bed to sleep.

 "How exactly did you survive that fall?" 

 _Oh damn,_ Sherlock thought. He really didn’t want to get into _that_ right then. So he decided on a distraction tactic.

 "That, my dear Watson" he said, kissing John softly, "is a story for another day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around!


End file.
